Sealed Deal
by Masked Entity
Summary: Steve fucks up. Big time. Like, "I just accidentally started the 2nd apocalypse," bad. Can he, Alex, and Herobrine stop an event which had killed so many in the past? Boy, I sure hope so. (The Adventures of Steve and Ghostbrine remake!)
1. Prologue

_Fiora Wright — July 1st, 1359 — 7:45 AM_

 _Current Objective: To investigate the function of the seals._

 _Today marks another day that the mutant crisis continues. How many entries have I begun with that line? How many more will there be? Not many more, I hope. I believe that if I can find out more about the function of the proposed solution to the crisis, the seals—that is, how they will be generated, how they operate, how long they will last, etc.—then I can not only predict their success but also learn more about magic as a whole._

 _Magic is a concept that is very new to us humans. We here at the Wright Labs are few but extensive, I made sure of that. Even we are not sure if there are any humans who can use magic as flexibly and comfortably as the Aetherians, let alone use that amount of power, period._

 _That is what makes the situation all the more curious–but I digress._

 _To fulfill the objective stated above, I, of course, have to come in contact with the Aetherians nearby, ask them about the questions stated above, and see if I can, perhaps, watch a demonstration of the process. We have been warned several times not to interfere with the work of the Aetherians, as they want to see as little human causality as possible. I'll be honest; There is nothing I would love to do more than hole up here until this whole thing blows over. Sincerely. I know there is nothing that we can do about the issue at hand. Even with a solution in our, well, their sights, the situation grows bleaker and bleaker each day that passes. I fear the worst. _

_That is why I must find out more about the seals. So that I will not plague myself with such dark thoughts._

* * *

Hello all! This is a remake of an old story called "The Adventures of Steve and Ghostbrine," which I had posted only a few chapters of. I hope to actually follow through with this guy, I've worked hard on it, and I hope y'all will enjoy and stick with me till the end! :D _  
_


	2. Chapter 1: Could You Stop?

Consciousness seeped into Steve as the sun's rays hit his eyelids, prompting the man to wake up. He inhaled deeply and yawned, blinking away the bleariness in his eyes before sitting up properly in his bed. His indigo eyes lazily wandered over to the window next to his bed, taking in the familiar view of the outside of his home at this time of morning: blue fading into reds and oranges as the sun rose into the sky, peaking over the tops of tall trees. Steve smiled and sighed softly at the sight, covering his mouth as he yawned yet again.

Time to start the day.

A rather large ball of black fluff excitedly greeted Steve upon his first steps out of his bedroom, chasing away the remainder of his drowsiness. He grinned, affectionately smoothing his hands through the dog's soft fur.

"Mornin', Grape. Didja sleep well?"

She only barked in reply, running circles around him before pawing at the front door. Steve laughed softly, quickly retrieving a fresh shirt, a pair of jeans, some socks, and shoes from his room. He placed the items down on the table next to the door before entering the kitchen, grabbing an apple from a bowl set on another table.

"We'll go as soon as I check up on Markus."

He stepped into his backyard, where a large, fenced-off area containing a shack about half the size of his home, a trough full of water next to it, and a large pile of hay next to that resided in one corner. Steve froze up for a moment, fearing the worst when he didn't immediately see Markus, but the brown and white horse trotted out of his shelter only a few moments later, making his way over to his owner with little concern. Steve breathed a sigh of relief and began to stroll over to the horse, meeting him halfway and feeding him the apple.

"Good to see you didn't have any plans on running away again, Markus," Steve said playfully as he pet the mare. Markus seemed to nod in response, continuing to chew on the red treat. Everything was in working order, as far as Steve could tell. He would need some grass seeds to patch up a dying bit of grass that was closer to his home, but otherwise, everything else was fine. He headed into his house and towards the front door, where Grape eagerly waited. His smile faltered and a tightness squeezed at his chest as he set his hand on the doorknob. His eyes darted to the window in his living room, slightly above a filled bookshelf. There was nothing.

Maybe _he_ wouldn't come today, and nothing would happen. Steve grabbed the iron sword propped up behind the door, just in case. There were other things to worry about in this forest, anyway. With newfound confidence, Steve pushed his door open and sprinted out of the house, leaving Grape behind for but a few moments before she caught up to him. The two ran through the woods, following a path that Steve had ran on many times before. He slowed down to a jog as he neared his destination and caught his breath as he observed the forest around him. Despite the cover being provided by the leaves high above, heat still snuck its way into the dimmed forest, sticking to his skin. That wasn't what he payed attention to, though. Now, he slowed down to a walk and narrowed his eyes.

This forest was always changing. He, honest to Notch, couldn't place _what_ about it changed—there were many things that were constant about it, after all. The calming stillness that settled upon it during the day. The lively morning bird-songs. The rather ferocious mobs that would wander around at night, even during the day, sometimes, due to there being just enough shade. Even the very path that he was walking on! But he knew that something was changing about it, too gradual for him to notice, maybe.

He blinked out of his trance when cool water splashed onto his feet. Grape had unflinchingly hopped into the stream, doggy-paddling through it with intense concentration. When had they arrived at the stream? He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and shook his head before putting his clothes, shoes, and sword down. He might be unable to solve the forest puzzle, but at least he could beat the heat.

* * *

Steve was about a few yards away from his home when he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth falling slightly agape. Had he set a fire outside of his home before leaving? Or was it one of the mobs that had done it? He nearly turned tail to run back to the stream but he caught sight of something else. Something _more_ concerning than the fire that had the potential to overtake both his house and the surrounding brush. Yet, the sight didn't cause him fear.

There, standing practically in the flames, stood a man wearing a cyan shirt and blue jeans. He pointed to Steve before gesturing behind him with a thumb.

 _Leave._

Steve's grip tightened on the handle of his blade as he pressed his lips together in a thin line, restraining himself from screaming. He closed his eyes. Took a deep, shaky breath in. Exhaled it. And he flipped off the man that had been making his life just that much harder for the past couple of weeks.

This would be the last time that he dealt with this issue… _civilly._

* * *

Steve had plenty of time to calm down after the morning's events as he exited the forest. Just east of the forest and about an hour's journey away on horseback was Verdesa, a small-ish village that Steve frequented. He had previously planned to go and trade some minerals he had found for some food before returning home but, at the moment, the thought of returning home so quickly only served to bring his spirits down again. He needed a distraction.

Two guards stood just outside of the village, one leaning on a torchlit pole to the left of the path leading in as the other practically bounced around them. Steve hopped off of Markus and attached a lead to him, gently guiding the horse the rest of the way. He couldn't help but snort as he grew closer to the two, finally being able to hear their conversation.

"...and that I'd find like _15 cats_ just right there, ready to be taken care of. I mean I don't think I can handle 15 cats which really, _really_ sucks, but isn't that amazing," the one bouncing, who he could now recognize as Vahn, stopped and stared off in wonder. Jason, leaning on the pole, did not seem to find the other's words very amazing at all.

"Dude, I think Gavin's screwing with you. 100%."

"Jason," Vahn replied in disbelief, snapping his head back towards Jason before continuing. "Are you telling me that after this long, you still doubt him?"

"Well, I mean, I'll be honest. It's hard to tell," Jason responded nonchalantly. "Could be coincidence, could be...just a dude with incredible foresight."

"Yeah, okay, but what he says _will_ happen always _does_ happen."

" _Almost_ always. He's been off sometimes. I won't doubt his accuracy but, usually he's more vague than...whatever the hell he gave you. Come on, seriously? 15 cats. In some abandoned building."

"There's _no way_ he's lying," Vahn replied with sincerity. "He looked me dead in the eyes and told me that it would happen, but _only_ if I take immediate and direct action."

Jason nodded to himself a couple times, as if coming to an understanding.

"Mhm, yeah, that's code for, uuuuuh, ' _Please leave me alone.'_ The dude looked like shit the last time we saw him, I doubt he'd wanna deal with some fanatic like you—"

"Well, _y'know what?_ "

"Hi Jason, Vahn," Steve interrupted before an actual fight could occur, attempting to hide the fact that he'd heard the conversation. He failed, because Vahn sent him a glare and returned to the other side of the road. He decided it was better not to press on about it, and instead turned to Jason, who sighed and flashed Steve a small and knowing smile.

"Hello, Steve. Leavin' him here?"

"Yep. Thanks, as always," Steve returned the smile, offering the guard the end of the lead. He gave Markus a few reassuring pats, as well as an apple as a snack before he headed into the village. Though it was still a bit early in the morning, the town was already bustling with people running their daily errands, or simply conversing with one another. People greeted him as they passed by, which he returned kindly. It really was such a simple gesture, but he couldn't help the small smile on his face. Despite living quite a ways away from the village and not visiting as often as he probably ought to, the local residents never failed to make him feel welcome.

Steve passed by Michael and Anna's before making a right, heading down the road towards the more residential area. His eyes lingered on the library as he passed by, recalling the conversation between the two guards, and he nearly stopped to enter the building but—he'd come back after meeting with Alex.

There was a short cobblestone walkway and stairs leading to the front door of Alex's decent sized home, a flourishing garden on either side of the path. He noticed, with amusement, a small, black and white spotted rabbit nibbling on something growing out of the ground, paying no mind to him as he walked to the door and knocked. Almost immediately, the door swung open, revealing Alex on the other side, a huge smile on her face. It was as if she was expecting him to come.

"Steve! Where were you the other day, come in!"

Steve inwardly cringed as he entered the home, recalling the promise he'd made her a few days before that he would stop by and help her with...something. No, Steve was not a bad friend who'd forgotten what it was he was supposed to do and when. Alex just hadn't specified at the time what exactly "something" was, and due to a certain _someone_ and far too much time spent trying to find Markus, he'd decided that it was just best not to come at all. He knew that, though she'd be disappointed by his absence, she would understand why things ended up as they did.

Steve prepared himself a glass of water before he flopped down onto the couch in Alex's living room, across from Alex who had already settled herself down again. She leaned forward so that her elbows rested on her knees, and her chin rested on her hands, her green eyes intently trained on him.

"So?"

It wasn't accusatory in any way, yet Steve still shifted his eyes away, opting to take a sip of water instead of speaking immediately. But he remembered Markus' disappearance, the fire in front of his home, the absolute _audacity_ of the guy to just tell him to "leave," and suddenly he didn't mind the idea of Alex's threats of violence.

"Well. The other day…"

* * *

"I seriously don't get you, Steve. I would've _at least_ given him a couple warning shots. To the leg."

"It's getting harder and harder for me to tell whether you're joking or not," Steve remarked dryly, knowing already that she wasn't joking. At least, not anymore. She sighed shortly, sending him a deadpan look.

"I'm serious, Steve. This is—who knows what's next? You said he'd already attacked you personally, now this?"

"He didn't _really_ —"

"If you have to add ' _really_ '," she made quotation marks with her fingers to emphasize her point, "then he _really_ did attack you."

Steve took another sip.

"Look. He wants you to just leave, right?" Alex paused, averting her eyes and licking her lips. "You could just," she began, her tone softening from before. "Just _for now_ you could stay in Verdesa—"

"Nope."

"I don't—why?"

"Well, first of all, as much as I love this place, I do enjoy the forest more," he started.

"Ah yes, your reclusive behaviors, how could I forget," Alex 'mumbled' loud enough for him to hear, a smirk on her face.

"Ha ha, I'm an introvert, sue me. Second, let's say he _doesn't_ want me to leave and is just...some douche who wants to terrorize me for whatever reason, and I move here. Now everyone has to deal with him." He would probably benefit from the help of the town guard and knew that whatever was happening probably wasn't his fault; he understood that. Yet bringing the problem to Verdesa instead of finding a solution himself was, to him, somehow irresponsible. Alex blinked in confusion, partially echoing his thoughts.

"Um, perfect? Wouldn't that be better? He'd probably be scared off instead, right? Especially since _I'm_ here," Alex added, and Steve couldn't help but smile briefly. He continued anyway.

"And, finally, why _should_ I leave just because this dude wants me to?" Steve earnestly searched his palms lying in his lap, trying to recall if he had any bad encounters with anyone preceding the week before the stranger started the harassment. "As far as I know, I haven't done anything to warrant any of this…"

"I'm just worried, okay? I said it'd only be _for now,_ " Alex repeated. Steve shook his head, silently reasserting his previous answer, and so she sat back and crossed her arms.

"Alright. Fine. You're really just gonna let him do this."

"No. Not anymore," he replied nonchalantly, taking another sip of water. Alex raised an eyebrow and leaned in once more. "I was thinking about maybe giving him a couple of warning shots. To the leg."

Alex clapped and laughed for a good couple of seconds before suddenly sobering up.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"...You want me to help? I can come help."

"Notch, Alex, I don't want to _kill_ him!"

"Aaaaaaw," Alex whined exaggeratedly and pouted. Steve laughed and sighed.

"I'll just…" He trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows. What _would_ he do? He shook his head and sighed once more. "Anyway. Did you do the thing that you wanted to do? What _did_ you do, anyway?" He hoped that Alex would accept the shift in topic. She did.

"Oh, yeah. Just wanted to test out a new type of spell Beatrice taught me. Spoiler alert: It works."

"You were going to test it on me?" Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, nooo, Steve! I'd just have you sit back, relax, and watch the magic show." A wink. Steve nodded before standing up, stretching his arms above his head. He took the glass he'd been drinking out of and downed the rest of its contents, returning it to the kitchen.

"Now I know why you didn't tell me what we'd be doing. Well, I'm off to the library," he said, opening the front door. "Gavin apparently isn't doing so well." He turned back and saluted to Alex, who returned the gesture.

"Good luck."

* * *

The library was his favorite place in Verdesa. How could it _not_ be? It was quiet, for one, besides the music that constantly played throughout the establishment, just relaxing enough to get him into a focused, reading mood, yet interesting enough that he wouldn't fall asleep if he listened for too long. There were reading chairs, couches, and desks with chairs perched around in various nooks and crannies of the library, suiting the needs of both casual readers and those who may be doing research. Leave it to Gavin to create the perfect atmosphere.

Speaking of Gavin, he was nowhere to be seen. With a shrug, Steve sat in one of the many reading chairs and began flipping through the journal he'd started to read a couple days ago. He'd lost his page—not that it particularly mattered, seeing as he'd read through it a few times by now. He gave up searching after a bit, instead turning to a random page. He let out a quiet triumphant sound as he scanned over the page. It was the entry he'd been looking for. He skipped down to the second part of it.

* * *

 _20:21 PM_

 _I've discovered more about the seals by spending some time by a nearby primary source of action, Blancarrine, in the tundras of Cassareth. Of course, I had to hang quite a ways back, but a kind Aetherian by the name of Tullus was happy to explain to me what it was they planned to do._

 _As discussed before, these locations, such as Blancarrine, which have a high degree of mob mutation and unfamiliar species spawning up, are concentrated with magic that is deadly to the Aetherians and, obviously, humans. The seals are a way to counteract the effect, by, as the name states, sealing away the source of the energy. The seals would simply keep the energy at bay, stopping it from spreading around and causing any mutation or damage to nearby areas._

 _Tullus explained that in order to seal the magic away, one would first need to whittle away at the population of mutated mobs surrounding these source areas. Doing so would create a weakness in the source, as well as provide enough magic for the next step, which would be the actual sealing of the magic. With the source weakened, there would be little resistance from it as the Aetherians cast a, shall I say, divine spell upon it (that's code for 'I'm not sure exactly what type of magic this is')._

 _Careful execution_ as well as routine and continued maintenance of the seals _should ensure that such a devastating event never occurs again._

 _They have yet to test the seals, but Tullus expresses confidence in the plan. I had stated before that I would be able to predict the success of the seals but, as I am not a magic user nor an Aetherian, I can't say with confidence how well the plan would work myself. I can, however, base my predictions upon what has happened thus far._

 _The Aetherians have done well at slaying the mutant creatures and protecting the lives of_ humans, _but at the cost of their own lives. Many, many of them. I have no doubt that they would be able to execute at least the first part of the plan, even if they were right by a source. I am more worried about how they will go about casting the seal itself—it will take more than just one Aetherian to successfully cast it, but the probability of enough of them making it to the second part of the plan seems...scarily low. But! We've made it this far already. I want to think that they will succeed._

 _Starting tomorrow, Aetherians all over Cassareth will begin the execution of this plan. We here at Wright Labs will continue our efforts to help them, or at least, document the events._

 _In the meantime, a steaming cup of tea and a long night's sleep seems to be calling my name_.

* * *

Steve made note of what page he was on before setting the journal down. He already knew the ending to this 'story' but he couldn't help rereading it over and over again. It was just so _fascinating_. Not for the first time ever, he wondered what it would've been like to be there during the crisis. About what kind of mobs had been terrorizing the Overworld. About the Aetherians…

"You've been awfully interested in the First Crisis lately, Steven."

It was as if his very skeleton had jumped out of his skin; he was startled so badly. Gavin all but cackled a bit too loudly for the library, though it was only the two of them at the moment, as Steve's wide eyes landed upon the bespeckled man.

"You can't keep doing this, Gavin," Steve said, placing a hand over his still racing heart. "Notch, I swear, you're like a ghost."

"Mm, I just might be," Gavin sung, cryptic as usual as he took up the now fallen journal and paged through it. Steve opened his mouth to ask how the man was doing, but Gavin shot him a quick glance and started speaking before him. "I don't blame you. I think what I find more curious than the crisis itself is the fact that it isn't something...well-known. You would think that what could very well have been the end of the world would be a more popular subject, no? Especially considering that the seals are all, supposedly, temporary, if I am remembering correctly. And yet..."

Gavin continued to speak as Steve continued to stare wide-eyed at him, no longer out of fear, but in awe. He hadn't really thought about it that way. He was pretty sure he'd only heard about the crisis from Gavin himself, otherwise it wasn't very common knowledge—nothing about the mobs, the seals, the Aetherians...well, no. He didn't attend the temple very often, but he certainly heard about "The Children of Notch" and their selfless deeds often enough.

"...suppose it's easy to not think about something that simply is not happening and has been taken care of. Anyways, why don't you take these home with you? Steve? Steven." Gavin snapped his fingers in front of Steve's face, breaking him out of his contemplative trance.

"Ah. Sorry, I-um. What were you asking?"

"Wow. Alright. I see how it is," Gavin said, sharply turning around to put the journal away. Steve reached out and gently grabbed the back of his green sweater vest, sighing softly. Gavin didn't take very kindly to being ignored.

"No, I'm sorry, I was just thinking about what you said. Really, what were you asking?" Gavin stopped and turned to Steve once more.

"Why don't you take _these_ ," he repeated, placing the journal in Steve's still outstretched hand with a bit of force to punctuate his words, "home?"

Steve furrowed his eyebrows—Gavin allowed for pretty much any other book within the library to be borrowed temporarily by customers, all _except_ for the journals. They were very precious, and old, and full of very good information, after all. Sure, they were good friends, but that didn't explain why Gavin was, rather calmly, he had to note, just offering to let him have them all of a sudden.

"I-I couldn't—"

"You could, but you won't, that's alright," Gavin said, taking the book out of Steve's hand and turning to walk away once more. The look of confusion still didn't leave Steve's face, and he stood to firmly grab Gavin's arm before he could leave again. He was met with a bit of resistance.

"Gavin…" Steve started slowly. "You're acting strange."

"I am?" Gavin continued to try to pull away.

"Seriously, you– Jason said that you weren't well the last time he saw you, is that why—"

"I have a bad feeling, Steven," Gavin stated simply, the previously sing-song tone of his voice turning into something empty and cold. The music flowing about the library seemed to echo this sentiment, dying out slowly into nothing. Chills crawled up Steve's spine. He slowly let go of Gavin, who drew himself a few steps away from Steve. "Had, more like. You plan to do something tonight?" It was less a question than a declaration of fact, a different question hidden beneath it. Steve opened his mouth to answer but found he was unsure. He closed it, and then tried again.

"Y-Yes?"

Gavin slowly turned to Steve again and stared at the floor, allowing the silence of the library to fill the space between them. It was then that Steve noticed that the whites of Gavin's eyes were a bit red, that his eyes had sunken in a bit and that he was developing nasty eyebags, that he was just so incredibly pale. It was a wonder how the man hadn't just dropped into one of the couches and passed out for days. Steve almost recommended him to sleep out loud, anything to break away from the terrible feeling hanging over them, but he was unable to speak. After what felt like an eternity, Gavin drew a deep breath in and exhaled it slowly, his icy blue gaze finally meeting Steve's over the lenses of his glasses.

"Try not to do anything regrettable, Steven."

And with that, the man trudged to someplace unseen by Steve, who bolted out of the library as soon as he was sure that the librarian was gone.

* * *

Phew. And so it begins, my friends.


	3. Chapter 2: An Attempt Was Made

Steve leaned heavily upon one of the library's doors, attempting to steady his breathing and calm his racing thoughts. There was no reason for him to have reacted the way he did. At least, that was what he wanted to tell himself, yet he still couldn't shake the overwhelmingly terrible feeling weighing upon his body. He recalled the conversation from earlier in the morning, between Jason and Vahn.

Maybe it was a joke. A really, really cruel joke. Or _whatever_ Gavin had dreamt up this time wasn't going to happen. But Gavin's exhausted and distant eyes flashed before him as well all the other times that he'd witnessed Gavin's well-being crushed beneath the weight of his darker visions, which often came true, effectively silencing his inner skeptic. Only one thought remained, then.

What the Nether had Gavin meant?

Steve stared hard at the ground beneath him before shaking his head, running a hand through his brown hair. Gavin himself probably didn't know the answer to that question—he couldn't, _shouldn't_ bother himself with it right now. He had things to do. With that, Steve leaned off of the building and began heading into town, leaving the library with one last lingering look. He walked straight down the path he'd taken to get there and then turned left. He paused in front of the building he'd been looking for, taking a quick moment to pat down the hair he'd ruffled and straighten his shirt before pushing the door open.

Heat and the faint smell of smoke pervaded his senses as a little bell rung from a room behind the desk in front of him. Steve's down-trodden look was replaced with one of admiration as he re-examined the various works hung upon the walls of the armory, from swords with custom carved handles to double-edged axes, even some little glass sculptures stood proudly upon a shelf.

"Coming," a rough voice shouted from the back, but was quickly followed by, "Anna, don't you—hey!"

Steve had only a moment more to himself before a small figure dashed from the adjourning room to his right, pausing only a moment before clasping onto his leg.

"Steve!"

Something clattered from the room behind but Steve paid it no mind as he kneeled down to give Anna a proper hug.

"Oh, little enchantress! How I've missed your most wonderful presence," Steve said in an actor-y tone of voice as he squeezed Anna a little tighter, causing the child to giggle. When the two pulled away from each other, he gently placed his hands on the girl's shoulders. "Hmm. Did you get a haircut?"

Anna's white, previously lengthy hair now only reached her shoulders. She nodded fervently. "Papa cut it for me!"

"He did a very good job, it looks nice! Speaking of him...Anna. What did your father say about the door?"

"Uuuuummm…not to go answering it by myself?"

"And what did you do? _Again?"_

"Answer the door by myself…" Anna answered dejectedly, pouting.

"And we don't do that because?"

"Because we don't always know who's there, but- it's always someone friendly, Steve!" Anna whined, crossing her arms. "And even if they were a meany, I could just blast them away!"

Steve smiled at her naivety, but also at the fact that she really wasn't wrong in the sense that both the people who lived in Verdesa, as well as those who just came to visit, were typically quite friendly. He took his hands off of her shoulders. "I'm sure you could. But you can never be sure, okay?"

"Okay…" Steve stood as the child morosely began to wander back to her room, quickly pulling an apple out of his bag.

"Hey, Anna, I think I still have something for you," Steve said, a smirk on his face. The words were barely out of his mouth before Anna spun on her heels to look at what he had in his hand. She gasped loudly, her turquoise eyes widening as she broke into a huge smile.

"Green apple?!"

"Yep. You can have it—if," Steve paused to raise the apple away from her as she made grabby hands for the tart treat before continuing, "You promise not to go to the door by yourself."

"I promiiise! Suuuper promise!"

And with that, Steve handed the apple over to the very eager child, who took a big bite out of it before letting out a muffled "Thank you!" and heading into her room. Steve stared after her, his smile becoming small as his mind began to wander once more. A small chuckle interrupted the dark path his thoughts were taking, and his head snapped towards the source of the sound, maybe a little too quickly. There stood Michael, wiping a sheen of sweat off of his dark skin as he flashed Steve a dimpled grin. Steve couldn't help but notice that the man's black hair was tied back in a higher ponytail than usual, some of it falling upon his broad shoulders rather than behind him. He was, maybe, staring for too long.

"I swear, you raise that kid better than I do, Steve," he said, laughing again. Steve felt the heat rise to his face and cursed himself for being unable to stay calm and accept a simple compliment. He also laughed, his eyes darting back to where Anna had exited from.

"Haha- no, I don't...of course not. Like I come here often enough to be able to do that," Steve said, internally screaming. What was he even saying anymore? Michael, bless the man, seemed not to think lesser of Steve somehow, and he waved his hand in the air.

"Ah, don't be that way! She likes you all the same. And, hey, so do I," Michael responded with a quick wink. And, before Steve could combust, Michael clapped his hands together and continued, "As much as I enjoy your company here, I know you didn't just come here for that."

"Y-Yeah," Steve nodded, unsheathing the iron sword at his side. He caught his own eyes in the reflection of the worn out silver surface, and his expression became vacant. He'd originally planned on having the blade re-sharpened at the very least but, even though he would need it for other purposes, sharpening the blade seemed like he was taking another step into making a "regrettable" choice.

"Steve? Are you alright," Michael gently asked. Steve absentmindedly looked up at the blacksmith before remembering where he was. "You seem...out of it."

"No, no, I'm alright, I just...you know what? I'm sure this thing can handle a dozen more swings at least. Sorry about that, Michael," Steve responded sheepishly, sheathing the sword once more.

"Now, why're you apologizing? That's alright, as long as you're sure…? Did something happen?" Steve's breathe caught in his throat upon hearing the tone of concern directed towards himself. He almost wanted to tell Michael about the happenings of the library, but instead, he swallowed thickly and shook his head.

"No. I...I'll just head home early, I think I'm coming down with something." Michael eyed him for a few quiet moments, seeming unconvinced, but he soon sighed and, thankfully, changed the subject.

"Well, then, before you go, I think I still have something for _you,_ " Michael said, turning into the back room before Steve had a chance to ask—he didn't recall placing an order for anything recently. The smith returned, placing the item he'd retrieved onto the table between them: A glass rose, its delicate petals stained a deep red and its stem, leaves and all, stained green, and even carved with the same intricate designs of a real leaf. Michael had a few sculptures like this but this one had to be, by far, one of the most detailed.

"I was...out of orders to do for a bit and couldn't think of what to do in the spare time," Michael began quietly, pushing the rose towards Steve before shifting his dark gaze into Steve's eyes. "I began to think about you and, well, I went at it for a bit." Michael shrugged. "It's yours."

"I…wow," Steve said eloquently. He hesitantly grasped the rose's stem before picking it up, slowly twisting it around as he silently observed it. In part, he was genuinely taking in every little detail of the rose, but he was also trying to cover for the fact that he was stunned speechless. After a few moments more, he finally found his words.

"It's beautiful, Michael. You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to."

Feeling the heat crawling into his cheeks once again, Steve broke out into a stupid little grin as he held the rose close before carefully putting it into his satchel. "Thank you so much, Michael. I love it."

Michael smiled as well and waved his hand again. "It's- nothing, really." With that same hand, he reached out and took Steve's hand in his. "Hmm. I think it's a fever," he joked. He continued, giving Steve's hand a gentle squeeze. "You go home and feel better, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." Steve returned the squeeze before striding towards the door, turning the knob, and opening it up to leave, but not without one last look towards Michael. "Thanks."

* * *

Suffice to say, Steve had experienced quite a few sufficient distractions during his visit in Verdesa. With an incredible feeling of warmth settling over his mind and body, he'd only spent about an hour more in the village to purchase the seeds he needed for Markus' stable, as well as to see if anyone needed any minerals for him to mine before making a peaceful trip back home. After storing away his inventory for the day, taking care to set the glass rose on the table by his bedside—light would capture it almost constantly there and create beautiful distortions of light—he'd flopped onto his bed and promptly taken a nap.

For the rest of the day.

Steve awoke with a jolt late in the evening, sitting up too quickly for his own good. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, putting a hand to his head. He groaned when he finally opened his eyes again and looked out of the window by his bed.

"Ah, come on."

If he'd slept this late already, it would mean just another wonky night of sleep tonight. Besides that, he'd already missed the opportunity to safely make his way to the mine nearby without encountering the nightly inhabitants of the forest. Great. Nothing to do.

Nothing…

Steve's eyes shifted from his sword on the ground to outside of his window, where the last remaining rays of sunlight died out in the sky. He took in a deep breath. Exhaled it. And hopped off of the bed before taking the sword in hand.

As long as he went about it the right way…there _was_ something he could still do today.

* * *

"Hello? Anybody out there? Strange dude?"

This was stupid. Absolutely ridiculous. Suicidal, even. Alright, well, he wouldn't go as far as to say that quite yet—he was still in good proximity of his home, had at least lit up the area directly around him to ward off at least some of the mobs, and the supposed maniac he was trying to call for hadn't seemed to make a sincere attempt at killing him yet, no matter what Alex said—but it was quite close to it, he was sure.

"I want to talk? Maybe? You haven't done much of that with me," he began, running a hand through his hair. "I…I want to understand _why_ you're doing this, at least? We could sort it out or…Notch, this is stupid. You just show up whenever you want to, huh." Steve quieted down and sighed, but he didn't leave quite yet. A few minutes. A few minutes more. He didn't know why he thought that there might be a chance that the dude would come bother him tonight—he's probably at his own house sleeping like anyone else would at this hour, or, if he _was_ here, he was probably laughing his ass off at this pathetic show.

"I…maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Or something. I'll be honest, I'm not really sure what I could've done? Did I–"

Snap.

Steve jumped and quickly spun on his heels, his hand instinctively landing upon the handle of his sword. There, in front of him, was the same man from the morning. The douchebag who nearly caught his house on fire, who startled Markus far, far away from him, who kept wordlessly telling him to leave. He stood tall yet relaxed, a passive expression resting on his face. Steve frowned for a moment, but his expression lightened in surprise when he finally noticed something that he felt he probably should have noticed a long, long time ago. The man's eyes were…empty. White. And glowing. With a raise of an eyebrow, Steve dropped his hand from the hilt of the blade and slowly put both his hands up.

"Look. I'd prefer not to fight. Can we just…talk?"

The previously passive expression now dropped into one of annoyance. Steve flinched but the other male made no move.

"Okay…not much of a talker. I guess. I'm also guessing you didn't hear any of what I said before…?"

Still no response. Not even a nod or a shake of the head. Well. Rude.

"Can I ask _why_ you're doing all this?"

The man's face further crinkled before he face-palmed and groaned. Then, he pointed to Steve, then somewhere behind him—towards his house, he quickly realized—before finally pointing behind himself.

Leave.

"Okay. No. I asked you why you're doing this, not to threaten me again, _buddy_. Why should I leave? Huh?" Mr. White Eyes made the same expression that Steve imagined he had made this morning, when he was about to scream. But Steve, running out of patience far quicker than he had planned to, continued, throwing his hands up. "You've been a real dick, y'know that? Like, really? I don't think I've ever even _met_ you before, and you give me this? I might've done whatever you wanted me to do before but- you know what? You could give me any reason in the world at this point and I. Still. Wouldn't."

And, quicker than Steve could blink, faster than he could even see, a sword of diamond appeared in the other's hand. Though his stance was nevertheless relaxed, it certainly had changed into that of a person ready to initiate a fight. At any other moment, Steve might've taken the time to appreciate the craftsmanship of said blade. Now, he pulled out his own sword in retaliation. If this is what it came to…

White eyes, which had previously been a decent 10 feet away from him were suddenly right in his face. Steve's attempt to distance himself ended in his back falling flat against the ground, and he grunted as the air was knocked out of him from the impact, and again when the man pinned him to the ground with his boot. Steve cursed quietly, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut as the man hefted the sword up but—pain never came.

He cracked an eye open to look up, only to see the blade dangerously close to his neck and, more importantly, the man above him swaying slightly. The boot on his chest had lost some of the weight it'd had before. Without a moment of hesitance, Steve grabbed onto the other's ankle, shoving it off of him in the opposite direction in which he rolled, and hopped onto his feet once more. He realized quickly that his sword had been left a little ways away behind his opponent.

And, unfortunately, so had his opponent.

No longer disoriented and undoubtedly having the miner's new disadvantage in mind (or, perhaps, angry at his own mistake of letting Steve go), the man came at him relentlessly. Steve could only distance himself further and dodge the blade at this point, a task which proved itself possible but difficult. He hissed as sword made contact with skin eventually. Only a light cut, thankfully, but as time went on, they would only get worse until—

A heavy weight unexpectedly shoved itself into Steve's back, right as the white-eyed stranger pulled the diamond blade back, effectively toppling Steve onto him, and the two of them onto the ground. Steve sat up once again and looked down upon the stranger, who had his eyes shut in a grimace, before looking behind him.

Grape, panting heavily, seemed to smile upon seeing his face.

"Oh- my. Good dog. Good dog. Stay. No, go back home!"

With that, Steve stumbled off of the other, dashing over to pick up his sword before spinning on his heels to face the man—who was gone. Grape hadn't made it all that far in trying to obey Steve's orders, and was too preoccupied with trying to intimidate the now swaying stranger who was no doubt about to bring his sword down upon the dog. Steve's feet were moving faster than his mind was, the sword aimed to jab at the arm that was holding that sword.

It hit his side instead.

Steve had killed countless zombies and creepers with a sword before this. It wasn't something he particularly liked doing, but he had gotten desensitized to it after a while. There was something entirely different about killing—

No, no, he didn't kill this person. He'd just made a very, very bad mistake, which he could fix. The wound wasn't that bad, after all, it couldn't be. His blade was too dull. That's why the man had fallen on the ground, motionless, as blood pooled out of his side, and why wasn't he moving?

Steve dropped his bloodied sword and then shakily dropped to his knees, carefully reaching out to touch the man. This time, before his hand could reach, he could see the light and the particles form before the man disappeared for good. Neither the sting of his own wounds nor Grape's barking could shake him out of the stupor he was in now.

It would be a long, long night.

* * *

Warmth. Incredible warmth. It settled all over and throughout his body and mind, creating a comfortable, hazy feeling. If he didn't know better, he would've thought that he'd fallen asleep, wrapped up in the coziest blanket ever made. Or that he'd fallen asleep beneath a tree on a summer's day. But, no, that couldn't be. He had...something had happened to him. Something very, very unfortunate. So, now, he was here.

Where?

He opened his eyes. Indeed, he had fallen asleep underneath a tree, in the middle of a vast, green field. He sat up, then stood up and stretched, sighing in satisfaction as a few bones popped in his spine. For a moment, he just stood there with his eyes closed, enjoying the soft breeze that ran ran through the air. He didn't know how he got there. Or why he was there. Fighting through the haze over his mind proved to be a futile effort in trying to regain his memories, so perhaps the answers he sought for would come to him if he walked around for a little while.

And so, he did.

Choosing no direction in particular, he strolled away from the singular tree in the middle of the vast, green field, his eyes on the lookout for something. Anything. It really was quite empty and plain there, no matter how nice it was. The further off he walked away from the tree, the more anxiety creeped into his being, and the darker the sky seemed to grow, despite the total absence of clouds or even a setting sun to blame it on. Darker and darker the scenery grew, only further agitating him as he began to slow down and think about going back. But the tree—it might've been the same tree or a different one, he couldn't tell—it was up ahead of him. He picked up his pace or, at least, tried to. After all, his legs and, specifically, his feet felt like they were being weighed down by some type of thick muck.

He looked down.

He'd stepped onto—into?—a black surface, which his boots were part way submerged in, without noticing. And now his boots were melting. He cringed and quickly hopped out of the boots, backing away from them and moving towards the tree, noticing too late that his feet were also sinking further and further into the black. With one desperate attempt to tear a foot out of it, he sent himself flying backwards and into the black muck. His back met with something more akin to water than the goop he'd been battling before, and so he allowed himself to sink in. Instantly, his vision was clouded with black, but he could still breathe somehow, at least.

 _Let's fall._

A voice excitedly called to him, distant.

 _Let's fall together!_

It insisted. Was he falling right now? Or drowning? It felt nice, whatever it was. He had something to do, though. There was something very, very important that he had to do, and he hadn't done it yet. The warm haze was beginning to dissipate.

 _This is more fun. Forget about that._

He almost opened his mouth to object, but thought better of it. He wouldn't mind staying here, but forgetting about what he had to do previously...what did he have to do? Where was he? What happened to him? Clearer and clearer the visions of before became.

 _For_

 _get_

 _ab_

 _out_

 _it._

 _Fall._

And all at once, the fog was gone. He'd died. He died, stupidly, fighting a human. He was in the afterlife. He needed to get out of it to go fix the seals or the world might actually end. His name was—

 _That's very mean of you._

It was so _cold_ and _empty_ here, he finally noticed, and yet suddenly his lungs were on fire, his chest was being crushed into itself, he was suffocating, he couldn't move any of his limbs as he could before. Somehow, certainly, he would die _again_. Just as the pain began to feel overwhelming, something attached itself to his arm and began to pull him in the direction that he hoped was up, and then he was out of the muck and he could breathe again.

It wasn't pleasant.

He immediately heaved up everything he'd inhaled and then some, coughing out what little of it was left. And then, he passed out.

* * *

He awoke again beneath that tree in the field, to a conversation he couldn't understand.

"Htrsy, yjsy'd kidy. Epmfrtgia," a low, smooth voice muttered, disgusted.

"Hrrx. O'z ditqtodrf yjsy jr rbrm ditbobrf yjsy apmh nrgptr er gpimf joz," a second, slightly higher voice responded. "Yjr pyjrtd…"

"Eraa. Er gpimf joz, sy arsdy," said the first voice. Suddenly it clicked. This was the language that they used to cast spells...he hadn't heard it in a while. "Seriously, though? A mere human caused his death, Notch? How pathetic. And he was the last of them all?"

"No, he wasn't. Isn't. You know exactly why and how his death was possible, Orion. I'd appreciate if you didn't call him pathetic," the one identified as Notch said calmly. "Have you no respect for their lives?"

"Of course I do. They were mostly fulfilling and thus produced very, very delicious souls—"

"Would you stop with that? You know you don't eat them. You say things like that and then wonder why I suspect you."

"If you _truly_ suspected me, brother dearest, you would have made quick work of me a long time ago."

Notch said nothing in response.

"Well, last one or not, if he fails, let me have a turn. I am quite sure I can deal with this more efficiently than you have been."

"Destroying my world before its time for no real reason without finding the true source of the problem? I don't think that's very efficient, bro."

"It will be one less problem to—ah, he's awake."

With the attention suddenly on him again, he realized that he was still, in fact, lying down. He sat up quickly and, as a second thought, rubbed his eyes. In front of him were two men, one to his left and to his right. He couldn't help but notice how different the two looked, especially considering they referred to each other as brothers. The one on his left sat with his legs stretched out and his arms propping him up, his kind, dark eyes trained on him with a smile, exuding relaxation. He had fair skin, wore a casual brown t-shirt and grey pants, and was bald except for the scruffy black beard on his face. The one to his right sat cross-legged and hunched, his head propped up by his arm. A pair of glasses sat in front of his bored, golden eyes. Intimidating, if he had to be honest. His skin was as dark as ground cocoa beans, and he, unlike the other, seemed to put a little more effort into his outfit. He wore a long, black coat with gold accents, which was spread out behind him, accompanied by a white dress shirt and some black slacks. And he was not bald.

Well, they were gods, after all. He supposed they didn't have to look similar.

How did he know that?

The three fell into a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Hello," Notch said, finally.

"Hello," he responded unsurely. The one to his right, Orion, inhaled deeply and sighed, sitting up straight to turn his full attention to him.

"Stop, stop. This is terrible. We did not come all the way out here for awkward conversation. Do you know who you are?"

"I- yes. My name is...Herobrine."

"Good. Do you know why you're here?"

"I died."

"That you did. Do you know what you must do?"

"Live and protect." At this answer, Orion glanced over to Notch, whose smile grew wider.

"Cheesy. I meant—"

"Well, Hero," Notch interrupted, "It seems you're all good to go back, judging by the fact that your memory seems to be fine so far. You'll get the rest of 'em back upon waking. And, speaking of that, I don't know if any of your friends told you this but, uh, you will not have much of a physical body when you return to the land of the living at first. You, as you know, died, but your actual body is definitely salvageable. You know what I'm getting at?"

Herobrine furrowed his eyebrows, looking off to the side to ponder Notch's words. "You mean...I'll exist as a spirit until I can enter my body again? And, in order to enter my body again, it has to be healed."

"Bingo, you got it! Now you're _really_ ready to go back," Notch said as he stood up. The dark-eyed god snapped his fingers, and Herobrine's eyes widened in awe as a golden glowing octagon, with more shapes and lettering inside, formed beneath him. Orion, too, stood up, and snapped his fingers. A similar, black octagon formed above Herobrine. The two shapes kept growing brighter and brighter, the raw power causing Herobrine's hair and clothing to whip around as if he were in the middle of a fierce storm.

"Try not to die again, Herobrine," Orion said nonchalantly. "We can aid you a bit now but there is still a lot at stake. Brother dearest would not like to be forced to erase this world, and he will have to if you meet your end once more."

"Don't say something like that! We'd just have to give him a little more next time," Notch exclaimed. Orion gave Notch a deadpan look, and then, with a smile, turned to Herobrine once more.

"I revise my statement, then. Try not to die again, Herobrine, because if you do, I _will_ be having your soul to eat."

"You'll _what?_ "

That was about all Herobrine could muster before the light became blinding bright, the shapes spinning faster and faster in opposite directions. And then, with one final flash, Herobrine was gone. Notch turned to the golden-eyed god, who seemed quite proud of himself.

"Why would you say something like that."

"What? It will all be forgotten once he awakens."

"You're terrible."

"I am quite sure of it."

* * *

I am so sorry for not updating last Tuesdaaay (I didn't say it but, I'm trying to update every other Tuesday. That'll definitely be compromised by the upcoming school year but uuuh sh). I'll be honest, I just got kinda lazy. But I'll try not to do it again. Hope you liked this chapter~! Comments and reviews are definitely always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4: Wake Up

Waking up in the Overworld in his now ethereal and ghostly body was not quite as pleasant as waking up in…wherever he'd been before. As Herobrine attempted to grasp at the warm threads of light that were his memories of that place, the feeling or, rather, the knowledge that this process was familiar and would produce no result informed his decision to focus instead on trying to figure out his current circumstances.

With one look downwards, Herobrine—the ghost of Herobrine—was met with his own dead body and reminded for the fifth or sixth time that he had, in fact, died. White eyes stared emptily at his own corpse for a few moments, taking note of the dried blood puddled beneath the rather shallow wound on the right side of his body. Though he was sure that the sight would send chills down his spine had he still been alive and well in that body, he couldn't help but to tightly clench his fists.

It really had been a stupid, pathetic death.

After a few moments more, he relaxed his hands and lifted his head to take stock of the world around him, spinning—floating?—on his heel. He remembered this forest—not this location in particular, though. His corpse lied amongst some bushes in some inconspicuous part of the forest, nowhere near that human's house or the clearing by it. He might as well have been buried underground. He also did not remember it being day time when he'd died. How much time could've possibly passed between then and now?

Well, that didn't really matter now.

Quelling his thoughts, he shut his eyes and took another slow spin around. He already knew the forest was magical, but he'd never looked at it like _this,_ not in a while at least, and he did not know what he was expecting. All around him were wisps and patches of different shades of greens, some brighter than others, but generally dim. He opened his eyes when he realized that he had already gone around twice without noticing anything different, then sighed in frustration. Either he was farther off from the humans than he'd originally thought he was, or the forest's auras were too densely packed for him to be able to discern anything. With how weak the ghost's form was and how drained he was before the last time he teleported, he surmised that both statements were most likely true.

And so, choosing no direction in particular, but minding where his body was, he strolled away from his corpse.

* * *

It was a week after the unfortunate incident before Steve finally hopped on Markus, with Grape in tow, and returned to Verdesa. Seven days of guilt. Seven days of avoidance. Seven days of no sleep.

"Dude, you look like shit," Jason informed him helpfully, as if he didn't already know that. Steve inhaled deeply and sighed, pressing his hands into his eyes, which were no doubt red, for a moment before hopping off the horse and handing the lead to the guard.

"I know."

He took a few steps into the village with the ever excitable Grape at his side before turning back around, his tired mind finally picking up on the fact that a certain someone was missing from the other side of the road. Jason sighed and stood up straight from the pole he'd been leaning on, stretching his arms above his head.

"That idiot _actually_ took time off to try and find the cats that Gavin told him about. Can't believe him…" Steve probably would've laughed and felt bad about it on any other day, but today he simply nodded in acknowledgment and continued into the busy village. It wasn't until Steve received even more looks of concern as well as the periodical questions of "Are you okay?" and "Where have you been?" from various people did it occur to him that maybe taking the main road to Alex's wasn't very ideal, since he was currently trying to avoid the attention of others. He nearly turned into Michael's place—he was much closer by, after all—but he hadn't even told him about the harassment from the stranger, and he didn't think he was up to explaining all of that, along with the incident seven nights ago, to him right now.

He turned onto the path leading right, making a point of staring straight ahead as he passed by the library. Even so, he found his thoughts turning to the librarian in a more sympathetic light than they had been for the past week. Knowing Gavin, he was and probably had been in a similar state of unrest as Steve was.

Steve only knocked once on Alex's door before it swung open. Alex, with her orange hair in a high-ponytail and wearing high-waisted black pants, boots, and a green button-down, greeted him on the other side, a disgruntled expression on her face. She blinked a few times before the bow in her hand promptly fell to the floor, and Steve was nearly tackled to the ground in a very tight hug.

"Steve, what the actual Nether?! I thought you'd _died_ or something!"

He cringed at the choice of wording but quietly returned the hug.

"I was about to come looking for you and everything, even Michael was gonna come with me," Alex said as she released him, walking around to push Steve into her house. Grape, recognizing that she was also allowed to enter, proceeded to dash into the house and run laps around the living room. "You look like—"

"Shit. I know."

"Mkay, glad we're on the same page." Alex shut her front door behind them and picked up the fallen bow. "Go take a nap, you need it," she said, patting his back. "And then you're 'fessing up on why you disappeared for a whole week. Gavin REFUSED to talk to me… Anyway. Go sleep."

Steve sent Alex a grateful look before promptly flopping onto one of two dark couches, and, within a few minutes, he was out like a light.

* * *

Steve woke up in a bed that wasn't his, to a conversation he couldn't understand. He yawned, rolling off of his stomach and onto his side before sitting up. The magenta blanket which he'd been neatly tucked under slid onto his lap. Quietly, he surveyed the room he was in as he tried to make out what the voices on the other side of the door were saying, to no avail. He could, at the least, figure out that there were three people—Alex, Michael, and someone else who spoke so rarely and quietly that he couldn't recognize them—and that he was now in Alex's guest room. With a sigh, Steve climbed out of the bed, returning the blanket to its original state and, as slowly as he possibly could, he cracked the bedroom door open.

He was right about Alex and Michael, and he soon found that the unnamed third voice was Gavin. Alex sat between the two men on one of the couches, her eyes shut with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. That didn't necessarily stop Michael, to her right, from leaning over her to rather heatedly shout-whisper to Gavin, to her left, who was turned away from both of them with his eyes closed as well, his leg rapidly bouncing. He'd somewhat expected for Gavin to look as sleepless as he did now, but not Michael, who was in a state of disarray that he'd never seen before. It was when Gavin slid the glasses off of his face, stood, and walked away from the two of them that Steve chose to open the door a little wider and step out of the room. All three pairs of eyes were on him in an instant, the room suddenly becoming very still.

"Hey," Alex greeted warmly, betraying her previous expression entirely.

"Hi," Steve responded unsurely. Michael slowly returned to his own space again as Gavin and Steve cautiously made their way into their seats, Gavin replacing himself next to Alex, but leaving a significant amount of space between himself and her, and Steve on the couch across from them.

The four fell into a long, uncomfortable silence.

"So…" Steve began, running a hand through his hair. "How's everyone doing?"

Alex threw her hands up and exclaimed, "Oh, Notch! No," surprising everyone else in the room. She slapped her hands back down on her lap. "Stop. That's not what we came here for. Gavin, or Steve—preferably Gavin—can you PLEASE start explaining what the Nether happened. Has been happening. Notch."

Gavin visibly shrunk into himself, pressing himself further into the couch and away from Alex, so Steve took the liberty of beginning the tale of the past couple of weeks.

"Alright, okay, okay. Let's—okay, so. I already told Alex about this but there is- was...there _was_ a man who'd randomly started bothering me about three weeks ago, I didn't know why and I didn't know who he was. Right before my last visit here he...almost set my house on fire, and so I decided I'd finally try to do something about it…" Steve trailed off and expectantly looked towards Gavin. In truth, he was really putting off having to admit to what was probably a murder, but Gavin _should_ have some words to say about it. They were once again plunged into a tense silence, until Gavin's feeble voice broke through it.

"I...I'd had a bad feeling. Since about the time you said that the stranger had started bothering you. It kept getting worse. And then I had this- terrible dream. I couldn't remember all of it, but what I remembered…" Gavin shifted so that he leaned forward, his hands gripping his knees. "Steven, I _tried_ to warn you," he began, his voice growing even quieter than before. If his icy, blue eyes were piercing with his glasses on, then Steve couldn't even begin to describe how they were now, silently pleading for an answer.

" _Please_ don't tell me you…"

" _Try not to do anything regrettable, Steven."_

 _His feet were moving faster than his mind was—_

 _It hit his side instead._

 _Stinging wounds._

 _Grape's barking._

 _A very, very bad mistake._

It was the feeling of droplets of liquid on his hands that brought his mind back to the present.

"I did, didn't I?" Steve's quivering voice was barely above a whisper as he lowered his head. It was as if the whole week he'd been gone hadn't happened, and he was back to that night. "I…killed him."

He was blind to Alex and Michael's dumbfounded looks, to the color draining from Gavin's already pale face as he leaned back in the couch. It was Alex who broke the new silence, her eyes darting between Steve's trembling form and Gavin's.

"What- Okay, no, waitwaitwaitwait. What do you mean _killed_ —I thought you were gonna…" Alex laughed a bit, hysterical. "Just...just give him a warning shot to the leg?"

"I meant to!" Steve shouted, his head snapping up. "I didn't even—I tried talking to him and then I got pissed and we started fighting and he almost killed me- he almost killed _Grape_ and I panicked—oh god," he murmured, pressing his palms into his still watery eyes and leaning back into the couch. "I killed someone. I took someone's life. Oh, _fuck_ —"

Warm hands came to grasp at his wrists, and he allowed them to pull his hands away from his face. Michael, who stood above him, now let go of Steve's hands and put his hands on his face, wiping away some of the tears that ran down.

"Breathe."

Steve took a deep breath in, and exhaled it.

"Who threw the first punch?"

"H-He did, but—"

"And with Grape? What happened, there?"

"He looked like he was about to attack her, so I- I meant to just stop the hand holding the sword and…got him in the side instead."

"And did you try to help him?"

"No. I mean, yes, but he…he disappeared before I could do anything."

"Disappeared?"

"Teleported. I guess."

Michael nodded to himself before sitting down next to Steve and bringing him in for a hug. When he pulled back, he firmly placed his hands on Steve's shoulders.

"Steve, you did nothing wrong. You were just trying to approach him peacefully, like you said, and things got out of hand. At that point, you could only defend yourself, right?" Steve swallowed, nodding slowly.

"Right," he echoed.

"And, hey. You said he teleported out, right? He might not even be dead. Might've went home to go lick his own wounds before you could," Alex shrugged. "I dunno about you, but I know that people who're already tired out typically wouldn't be able to cast any kind of spell, let alone something like teleportation. He's probably fine."

"Yeah, but…he hasn't. He hasn't come back since—"

"The point still stands that you only did what you had to do," Michael interrupted, taking his hands off of Steve's shoulders."Two weeks, huh. Gavin, I don't understand you. You knew about the possibility that this would happen for _two weeks_ and did nothing?"

Gavin's leg began to bounce again, and he responded without looking at him, venom dripping off of his sharp words. "I do _deeply_ apologize, _Michael_ , I do not typically try to act before understanding the _full picture_ first."

"Guys, stop—"

"Forget about what you knew or didn't know, you still could've given a heads up about it or—something! So? What does it mean? Let's not delay giving out _this_ prophecy of yours; what'll happen to Steve now?"

"I _told_ you that I didn't know what was going to happen until the night before. And I _still_ don't understand it!"

"If _one more_ person," Alex began, her voice dangerously low and quiet. "shouts in my house today. There will be no discrimination. You'll be punched in the mouth, and you'll leave."

There was another tense lull of silence.

"Can we…not talk about this anymore. Please." Steve was met with quiet agreement. He scanned around the room, feeling like he was forgetting something. Several somethings. "Where's Grape? And Anna?"

"Library," Alex said. "Gavin meant to take a day off anyway, so Marie was taking over. She's there with them."

"Speaking of," said Michael, standing up and heading towards the door. "About time I picked her up."

"Yes, leaving," said Gavin, also standing up to leave. He didn't head towards the door, though, instead opting to slide his discarded glasses back onto his face. Steve shifted in his seat a bit before standing up as well.

"I'll, uh. I'll go with you. I want to…" Steve trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he looked between Gavin and Michael. "…check something out at the library. Thanks, Alex."

"Yeah, yeah," Alex said, turning around in the chair to face the three. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it and, instead, gave Steve a two-fingered salute. For the first time since last week, Steve smiled, and he returned the salute. With that, the three men departed from Alex's home and made the very short trip to the library. Steve noted, with slight dismay, that the sun was already beginning to set, casting the town in an orange glow. He hadn't realized he'd slept for that long. He was sure that Alex wouldn't mind his impromptu stay.

Marie, Anna, and Grape all sat to the left of the library doors. Anna sat to Marie's right, leaning on the woman's arm but no less interested in the book that Marie was reading aloud to her. Grape's fluffy black head rested upon Marie's lap. Marie lifted her head up as they approached, brushing some of her dirty-blonde hair back as she did so.

"Ah, you're back."

"Papa!" Anna all but leapt from her seat, running into her father's awaiting arms.

"Had fun? Are you ready to go?" Anna was silent for a few moments, looking down towards the book Marie had in her hands, but a yawn seemed to make the decision for her. She nodded before resting her head on her father's shoulder. "Thanks for watching her today."

"No problem. She was fun to have around," Marie smiled. Michael returned the smile before turning to Steve.

"Will you be alright?"

Steve nodded. "I'll probably head back to Alex's after this, it's getting a bit too late for me to go all the way back home now."

Michael hummed quietly. With a "Goodnight," and a narrow-eyed glance towards Gavin, the blacksmith left. Steve sighed and looked to Gavin, who muttered something beneath his breath before storming into the library.

"Hm. What's wrong with my brother this time? Should I even ask," Marie queried, patting the fur ball in her lap.

Steve shook his head. "Nah. Can you watch her for a couple more minutes? I'll go talk to him."

"Any longer, Steve, and I just might have to keep her," she said, grinning slightly. She waved her hand dismissively. "Nah, I'm joking. Go ahead."

Steve thanked her and quickly followed the librarian into the library, passing through the tall shelves and different sections until he reached the desk at the back. Despite the time, there were a few people roaming around or seated at a desk or on the floor. He found the bespeckled man crouched down, searching through the shelves behind the desk containing quite the collection of music discs with a misplaced amount of concentration. Gavin didn't bother to look at Steve as he stood above him, nor when he crouched down next to him.

"I'm sorry about that," he began. "He…he must've been really worried. I hadn't really told him about all this, so…you know I don't blame you, right? I don't think he really does, either."

"You did," Gavin said, still not pausing in his search. "You must've, at some point. You didn't stay out of Verdesa for a week all because of what had happened."

Steve was silent. He brushed a hand through his hair before letting it fall again.

"Either way, you don't owe me—"

"You know what? Yeah. I did blame you," Steve cut in. "But that was stupid, and I'm sorry. I don't know what I could've done for things to turn out different, but I'm the one who didn't listen to your warning at the end of the day, right?"

Gavin's expression softened and he finally seemed to find the disc he was looking for, pulling it out of the shelf and standing up to put it into the amplified jukebox. A soft tune began to flow throughout the library and he sighed. Though he didn't say it out loud, Steve quickly figured out that all was forgiven. On his part, at least.

"You wanted to talk to me about something," Gavin stated as Steve stood up next to him. He expected a change in topic but his face still contorted into an expression of confusion.

"I—what?"

"Come now, Steven, you don't think I didn't catch onto your lie at Alex's to appease your angry lover. You were avoiding something. What was it?"

"He- we're not dating—and I really did just want to check something out."

Gavin simply stared at him, his expression blank and deadpan.

"Okay, okay. It was about the dream you had. And…the guy."

"What I told you was all I know, Steven. The rest was too vague for me to understand. …I saw you confronting that man. It…it went a little better then it did in the dream, I suppose. Whoever he is, he's important. After your confrontation, there was a series of colors…white, blue, yellow, green. There was a forest, and then a woman I had never seen before."

"…That really is vague. I don't have any idea about any of those things, either. And, the man. He…he had white eyes. Did you see that?"

Gavin cocked his head to the side. "White eyes? No."

"White, glowing eyes…that's what I wanted to look up. Didn't Fiora say in one of her final journals that all the Aetherians were basically wiped out?"

"Steven. Are you suggesting that an _Aetherian_ was the one who harassed you?"

"I don't think there are any humans with eyes like that. Do you?"

"It's just been so many years…"

"Well, we can just double check. Give me the journals."

* * *

 _Fiora Wright — November 13th, 1338 — 7:45 AM_

 _Current Objective: Learn more about the mysterious beings who recently appeared._

 _It has been...2 days since those mysterious beings appeared. It...feels a bit odd to refer to them as "mysterious beings" when they really are quite human, after all—for the most part. There are definitely a few surface level traits that sets some of them apart from us, things I have mentioned before, such as hair and eye color, as well as their magical abilities, but, aside from that, they really are nothing special. I mean that in the kindest way possible, by the way, they really are quite nice. Anyway. I'll tidy up around here before heading out to find out more about them._

 _17:08 PM_

 _Truly, they are mysterious beings—they have as much of a clue of themselves as we have on them. I talked with both them and other humans who have been in contact with them to gather information on some things. Let's start with the general things we know._

 _General Appearance: Aside from hair and eye color, just like a human._

 _Hair: Most have what we would consider natural hair colors, though a few of them have more rare hair colors that they seemed to have been born with, such as rich red or bright green—even white._

 _Eye Color: Nearly all of them have very peculiar eyes. Shades and colors of the whole spectrum of the rainbow, even pitch black or white exists amongst them. Their eyes tend to glow, both during the day (less noticeable, obviously) and in the dark. Even those with "normal" eye colors have a certain glow to them. This glow seems to fluctuate depending on various things._

 _Magic Ability: Now, I'm no sorceress..._

* * *

" _Steven…?"_

The voice that called to him was less than a whisper, but it still somehow managed to startle Steve out of world of the journal in his hands. He breathed a sigh as his tense muscles relaxed once again, re-settling into the chair he was sitting in.

"Alright maybe I deserved that a little bit but really, Gavin? ...Gavin?" The man trailed off as he confusedly looked around him. He knew he'd joked about the librarian practically being a ghost, but this was on a next level; the librarian was nowhere to be seen. With one last quick look around, Steve huffed a bit, setting the journal down on his lap. "I'm not playing this game with you, dude. Really—"

" _Oh, good, it was not a coincidence. You can hear me, correct?"_ The voice, smooth and deep, was much clearer now, and seemed to come from somewhere he couldn't quite pinpoint. He blinked several times before his expression fell, sinking into his seat.

"Oh. I know what this is," he muttered darkly, slowly opening back up to the page he was on.

" _Oh? And what is it?_ _Enlighten me."_

"It's my guilty conscience speaking to me or something, I dunno. 'Cause I killed—I might've seriously hurt that man. I'm talking to myself? I'm talking to myself. I am going crazy."

" _You felt guilty about killing me? Aw, how sweet. No, but you are not crazy. Not for the reason you think, anyway. I want you to think very, very hard, Steven. Harder than you may have ever thought before. Be honest with yourself, now. Who do you honestly think you're speaking to?"_

Though Steve felt more than vaguely insulted, he couldn't find it in him to care much about that. Rather, he decided to focus on the fact that these thoughts that he thought he was having were not, in fact, his, and they very much belonged to someone else somehow, no matter what he consciously or even subconsciously thought about himself at the moment. For the umpteenth time, he was brought back to that moment—not the final blow, but to the moment that he finally noticed what he should've noticed before. His eyes lowered to the journal in his hands. And as the dots began to connect, a translucent shape materialized before him. He looked up.

 _The man's eyes were…empty._

" _Did you figure it out?"_

 _White._

"Steven? Did you find what you were looking for?"

 _And glowing._

He barely took notice of Gavin, who now stood directly next to the stranger he must've definitely killed, because why else would this phantom be here? His eyes slowly made their way to Gavin, before shifting back to the ghost, before shifting back to Gavin, who was now trying to figure out whatever Steve could be looking at.

"Steven?"

"Yeah...no. No. I'm gonna go to sleep, Gav, thanks a lot," Steve said, now making a conscious effort to wholly avoid looking at or touching the phantom as he stood up and dropped the journals into the librarian's unexpecting hands. Gavin fumbled with them for a moment before gaining his bearings and shouting after Steve, who all but ran out of the library.

" _What?_ Am I missing something here?"

Distantly, he thought he could hear someone laugh.

* * *

What a menace. Anyway, hey y'all! As you've noticed this chapter was very much not on time. That's 'cause uuuuuuhhhhhh school. I'm getting my ass thoroughly kicked by it but! Not enough yet that I'll go on some long hiatus. Hopefully. So, instead of two updates a month, we'll be going down to one, unfortunately. So...see you around this time next month!


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